


Dean Winchester (Stay-At-Home-Dad)

by Wonderlandleighleigh



Series: Stay At Home Dad Dean Winchester [1]
Category: A little bit of Doctor Who, Supernatural
Genre: AU, F/M, Gen, Kidfic, Stay at home Dad Dean, crossover kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 08:49:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11399175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonderlandleighleigh/pseuds/Wonderlandleighleigh
Summary: Dean Winchester has a busy life, even if it no longer includes hunting.





	1. Kid #1: Ramona Mary

**Author's Note:**

> tanktopsandplaidboxer on Tumblr whispered the words "Stay-At-Home-Dad-Dean" and I ran with it.

It hasn’t been just the two of them since Ramona was really, really little. Her brother was born when she was seven, and it’s been a whirlwind of siblings ever since.

But this week, both boys are away at summer camp, and the wife took the youngest with her to England to visit some family.

So for the first time in forever, it’s just Dean and Ramona, and since it’s summer break, and she’s sixteen, she scored a job washing dishes and busing tables at a local restaurant, and she loves it.

Kid loves to cook, and Dean will give it to her, she’s great at it.

“Here’s the deal,” he tells her as they get ready for their days in the morning. “You give me a shopping list, and I’ll pick it up, and you cook whatever the hell you want for dinner. One week and one week only, while everybody else is away, I’m your taste-tester.”

She lights up like a damn Christmas tree (which Dean loves), and makes seven different shopping lists, handing them over, labeled with the days of the week, and Dean reads them all.

“The hell is Pecorino?” he asks, puzzled.

“It’s a cheese, Daddy,” Ramona tells him. “Just…if you don’t know what something is, ask a grocery clerk, and don’t worry about it. Trust me.”

He shrugs and nods. “Yeah, okay, Princess.”

*****

Monday night is Meatball sub night, and it’s…

You wouldn’t think a meatball sub would be a religious experience, but…

“Oh my god,” he says with a full mouth. “What- how-”

Ramona beams as she sits down with her own sub. It’s smaller than his, but still packed with meatballs and smoked mozzarella and sauce that has anchovies in it (he’d been pretty wary of the anchovies, but he can’t taste them) on soft, toasted Italian bread. 

“So the meatballs have the ground beef and chorizo, and Pecorino and extra mozzarella,” she tells him. “And the sauce simmered for an hour.”

He stares at her for a long moment. “So…so is this what you wanna do? Cook?”

She nods as she swallows a bite. “It is! I wanna be a chef.”

Dean grins and kisses her temple. “I think you gotta good chance of being successful.”

*****

Tuesday is roasted lemon chicken with a side of Brussels sprouts that Dean pokes at a little.

“Eat them, Daddy.”

“I don’t like ‘em.”

“You’ll like these.”

He lifts an eyebrow at her. “What did you do to ‘em?”

Ramona smiles innocently. “I mighta roasted them with bacon.”

Dean blinks rapidly. “I-you put-”

“Bacon and Brussels sprouts.”

He immediately stabs one with his fork and shoves it into his mouth and it’s…

“Holy crap.”

“Yep.”

“How do you know how to do all this stuff!?” Dean cries, bewildered. “Did we get you cooking classes that I don’t remember? Did your mom plop you down in front of Frugal Gourmet reruns when we were busy? Have you been possessed by Julia Child?!”

Ramona laughs and shrugs. “I don’t know. I just know.”

He shakes his head.

*****

Wednesday is a big ol’ pot of shrimp boiled with corn on the cob and potatoes and onions; spicy and bright-flavored and just…

Jesus.

They cover the picnic table in the backyard with newspaper and dump the whole pot out, feasting to their heart’s content. They listen to Zeppelin Four and watch the sun go down, and when the stars come out, they lay on the grass and watch the sky.

He watches her; her adorable button nose and her green eyes that match his, her wavy blonde hair.

“Hey,” Dean says, nudging her a little.

“Agh,” she yelps with a laugh. “What?”

“I am so proud of you,” he tells her. “You are so great. You look after your siblings, and you work hard in school and at your job. You rarely give us crap, even when we kinda earn it. I love you, and I couldn’t ask for a better, cooler oldest kid.”

Ramona smiles at him and throws her arms around him. “Love you, Daddy.”

He kisses the top of her head and rubs her shoulder.

*****

Thursday is simple.

Thursday is sausages roasted over a fire in the backyard with S’mores for dessert.

“No!” Ramona cries as she almost loses a sausage to the fire. “That’s not true! That didn’t happen!”

“I swear to you,” Dean tells her. “Your uncle Sammy lost his shoe right down the sewer. And then he lit his arm on fire.”

Ramona giggles hard, holding a hand over her mouth. “How?!”

“Okay, so there’s this rabbit’s foot your grandfather had locked up…”

*****

Friday Ramona makes Gazpacho, and Dean frowns down at it, not sure about it.

“Daddy, it’s good, I promise.”

“I don’t know, Princess,” he says warily.

“You trusted me on the Brussels sprouts!”

“You said bacon! Does this have bacon?”

“Ugh. Not everything-”

“Don’t you dare say ‘not everything needs bacon’ young lady, I will ground you.”

“Ugh!”

*****

She makes a full on pot roast on Saturday night, and Dean beams.

She laughs incredulously and sets it down. There’s mashed potatoes and roasted spiced carrots, and Dean is in heaven.

“Good job, Princess.”

“Unlike last night?”

“Unlike last night.”

*****

It’s their last night alone in the house, and she makes pizza.

She makes. Pizza.

She lets him toss the dough and she laughs when he almost gets it as high as the kitchen ceiling, and he laughs too.

The end result is probably the best pizza he’s ever had, save for that one time in New York at three AM.

They eat in companionable silence, and devour the whole damn thing. He lets her sip some of his beer, and they watch Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.

“Do you remember when you were little and we watched this?” Dean asks.

“No,” Ramona tells him, turning to him.

He chuckles and sits back. “You saw Elsa, and you started crying, because she was blonde like you, and you thought that meant you were a Nazi.”

She snorts and starts laughing into her pizza. “Nuh-uh.”

“Yep,” Dean nods. “It took two hours to get you to stop crying because I couldn’t stop laughing.”

“Hey!”

“Aw, c’mon, it was so adorable,” Dean says. “I had to show you a photo of Captain America to get you to stop crying. ‘Here, Princess. Look, Cap’s blonde too, and he’s the sentinel of liberty!”

“Oh my god.”

*****

The wife and youngest come home late that night, and Dean watches as the wife pulls the fridge open.

“Good lord. What is all this food?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean tells her. “Just make up a plate. I promise you’re gonna wanna try everything. And we should talk about where Ramona’s goin’ to culinary school.”

“Culinary school?” She pulls out the gazpacho (of course) and sips some, before freezing, staring down at it. “Good. Lord.”

“Yep. Culinary school.”


	2. James Sameul

Dean doesn’t like being called to the principal’s office. As a kid, it meant he got caught doing something he shouldn’t.

As an adult, it means one of his kids did. Which isn’t any better.

It’s always Jamie somehow, and when Dean steps into the front office of his elementary school, and looks around, he finds the kid sitting just outside the principal’s door.

Dean sighs softly and settles next to the nine-year-old. “Okay, Dude. Whadja do?”

Jamie frowns but stays quiet.

Dean blinks at him, noticing the pink/orange color on his lips. “Why are you wearing lip gloss?”

“Mr. Winchester?”

The principal is an older Chinese woman, who always looks impeccable in her pants suits. Her hair is always looks a little like a bowl around her ears.

Dean gets to his feet and nods. “Principal Cho.” 

Principal Cho leads him back into the office and closes the door. “Please, sit down.”

“There a reason why Jamie’s not in here with us?” Dean asks, sitting hesitantly.

Principal Cho takes a deep breath as she sits down at her desk. “Your son was in a fight today with three other boys.”

“Did he win?” Dean asks automatically.

She lifts an eyebrow. 

“I uh…I mean…ah…”

“Mr. Winchester, Jamie did something very brave, so it’s very hard to punish him for what’s happened.”

Dean frowns as she keeps talking.

“The three boys Jamie got into a fight with were beating up another child who…well…he…she…they…have had some problems.”

Dean frowns deeper.

“Jordan Carter is one of a few of our students who has realized very recently the they don’t feel like they are the gender they were born with. And to make Jordan feel a little better about everything that’s happened since that realization, your son put on some of Jordan’s lip gloss.”

He sits back, thinking that over. He never woulda done that at Jamie’s age. Hell, he never woulda done that at Ramona’s age.

“And so three other boys tried to fight both Jamie and Jordan.”

“Little jerks lost, huh?” Dean smirks.

Principal Cho sighs heavily. “I’m trying to decide the best way to handle this situation. Your son was very brave, but we still don’t tolerate fighting for any reason.”

“Even if he didn’t start it? And what about that Jordan kid?”

“I’ve sent them home with their mother,” Principal Cho admits. “Just for the day. Jordan has detention for the next few days, and I think giving Jamie the same should be suitable.”

“Seems to me you’re punishing Jordan and Jamie for no reason,” Dean comments. “Neither of ‘em did anything except defend themselves.”

“Fighting is not-”

“What would you have done?” Dean asks, sitting back and crossing his arms. “Huh? Some asshole kids come after you cause you’re Asian, you woulda just stood there? You wouldn’t have thrown one punch back? That’s what you’re telling me?”

Principal Cho glowers. “Mr. Winchester, I am not in the business of encouraging violence in this school.”

“Then punish the kids who started it,” Dean tells her. “And what kinda punishment did they get? Same thing, I bet. Right? Detention?”

“I-”

“Yep. Hateful little bastards are getting the same punishment as the kids they tried to bully.” He gets to his feet and straightens out his coat. “No detention. No suspension. Jamie didn’t do anything except defend himself, and somebody who needed help.”

“Mr. Winchester-”

“Nope!” He steps out of the office hurried, the principal dashing after him as best she can in her heels, but Dean’s already helping Jamie gather his things. “Jamie’ll be back in school bright ‘n early tomorrow.”

Principal Cho glowers. “Mr. Winchester.”

Dean grins and ruffles Jamie’s hair. “C’mon, Dude. Let’s get a milkshake, and then we can check in on your friend Jordan.”


	3. Matthew John

‘It’s always the quiet ones’ is not a phrase that is always true, but it’s true enough to be a phrase that most people know.

And it applies to Dean’s younger son.

He’s a scrawny kid. Not like Sam was scrawny, where you knew it was just a matter of time before he bulked up, but scrawny in his own way. He’s a thin kid with a mop of dark red hair that gets in his eyes more often than it doesn’t.

And he’s quiet. He likes to read, and he reads everything. Books and comics and signs and plaques on buildings and just everything.

“Voracious” is what Dean’s wife calls Matt, and Dean can’t argue.

But there is a little more Winchester in him than the kid lets on, because at the age of seven, he is a very good, and very hard-hitting hockey player.

Dean’s wife taught the kids to ice skate, and Matt’s the one who took to it most. They just didn’t expect him to want to play hockey so badly.

He walks into the ice rink just in time to see his son take an elbow to the eye and go straight down. He winces, and fights the urge to rush out to the kid, knowing that Matt hates it when he does that, and instead waits by the door to the rink until the kids file out after practice.

Matt looks up at him with one eye, the other covered by a gloved hand. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hi,” Dean says, trying to grin. “Looks like Sylvin got you good, huh?”

“He didn’t mean it,” Matt says.

Dean gently pulls the kid’s hand away from his eye to inspect the damage. “Ah, you had worse two weeks ago when you got a stick in your face.”

Matt grins proudly, and Dean pats his shoulder.

“Okay, so we got two choices,” Dean tells him. “We can head home, get some ice for that eye, and you can take a bath.”

“Or?”

“We can hit the comic book shop and then get you some ice and a bath.”

Matt lights up light a Christmas tree. “Shazam came out this week!”

Dean grins. “Grab your gear, and let’s hit it.”

*****

Dean never thought of himself as a nerd, but according to Sam, between the Vonnegut books he used to hide in his pack, and the amount of Star Trek he’s watched, he is one.

Matt is definitely a nerd. If Dean let him, he’d wander out of the comic book shop with a stack of books twice his size, but as it is, the kid is limited to whatever is in his subscription for the week, along with one bigger book if he finds something really cool.

“That’s some shiner, Matt,” the owner says from behind the counter. He’s a nice elderly man who’s been slinging funny books for twenty-five years. He knows the names of all his customers.

“Isn’t it cool?” Matt asks excitedly. “I got it at hockey today.”

The older man chuckles and shakes his head as he rings them up, and Dean pulls out some cash.

“Did you read comics when you were a kid?” Matt asks as they leave the shop and head for the Impala.

“Some,” Dean says. “I’d snag one from the grocery store once in awhile.” He opens up the car door and leans back as the stench of Matt’s hockey equipment hits him square in the face. “Augh!”

Matt giggles.

“You’re not even sorry,” Dean shakes his head. “Typical.”


	4. Emily Jacqueline

Dean hears a cough that’s not a normal “I’m a human and I cough sometimes” cough, but I “I’m a sixty-year-old man and I’ve been smoking for forty years, ask me about my emphysema” cough, and realizes it’s coming from Emily’s room.

When he pokes his head in, he finds his four-year-old daughter curled up in her bed, shivering visibly, red hair poking out from under the covers.

“Aw, Emmy,” Dean says, walking in quickly and sitting on the bed. “You sick?” he rests the back of his hand on her forehead and yeah, she’s too warm.

“Daddy I don’ feel good,” Emily tells him quietly. When he looks into her eyes, they’re dull and worn out.

“Okay,” Dean nods. In his head, he’s going through the checklist of sick kid protocol:

Let school know she’s not coming.

Make a doctor’s appointment.

Throw blankets in the dryer before they leave for the doctor so they’re warm when they get back.

Pick up ginger ale, applesauce, white bread, bananas and rice along with whatever the doctor prescribes for Emmy.

Pull out the sick day movies.

It turns out, according to the doctor, Emmy’s got the flu, which means lotsa rest and bland food, just like Dean thought.

He spends time stirring the bubbles out of the ginger ale (ginger’s good for upset little kid tummies, carbonation not so much), and makes them both toast before settling on the couch with her.

“Okay,’ Dean says. “Sick day movie choices.”

Emmy pouts a little. “No Maurie?”

Dean can’t help a little chuckle. “Just cause I dozed off that one day and you were playin with the remote control doesn’t mean it’s okay for you to watch that crap. You don’t need to see a bunch of crazy ladies pullin’ each others’ hair out over their deadbeat boyfriends. It’s a bad example. Girls should be friends with each other, not fightin’ over some loser creep.”

She cuddles down into the pile of blankets he’s covered her in and nods. “Okay, Daddy.”

“Okay,” he nods. “So. We got Little Mermaid-”

“Ariel looks like me.”

Dean grins and strokes Emmy’s red, red hair. “Yep. And we got Moana…we got Anastasia, we got that Kubo movie that made your biggest brother cry…”

“You cried too, Daddy.”

“Ssssshhhhh we got Ferngully, and we got Winnie the Pooh. What’ll it be?”

“Can we watch Pooh Bear?” Emmy asks, looking up at him as she munches hesitantly on her toast..

“We sure can, baby,” Dean nods, and clicks over to Netflix to put it on.

Emmy doesn’t sing during the movie like she usually does, and that’s worrying, but she’s got the flu so Dean knows he shouldn't be surprised. Eventually she falls asleep, and Dean settles back on the couch and switches to a baseball game, keeping the volume low while his youngest sleeps, curled up next to him, her head on his leg.

He blows out a slow breath, remembering what it was like to take care of Sammy when he was sick like this; realizing how much easier it is as a goddamn adult with health insurance and a house, and extra clean blankets and money for antibiotics and ginger ale, and even friggin bananas.

It strikes him that there were times he or Sam probably by all rights should have died. From being too cold or too hot or just plain too sick.

But now, by some miracle or fluke or mistake, he’s here.

Well…okay.


	5. Miranda Elizabeth (The Wife)

This is how it happened, years and years and years and years ago.

They were on a job, in, of all places, England, back when they were tracking down Crowley’s (Fergus. Heh.) remains. Wound up working with a UNIT squad.

Good group of people. Sensible. Didn’t like seeing innocent people get hurt or crapped on.

And among their numbers was this hot little redhead, Miranda. Smart as anything, good-natured, but didn’t have much time for Dean’s bullshit.

Part alien, apparently. Okay. Still hot.

They handle the job, and the group (Miranda and Eliot and Christopher and Leora and Sam and Dean), they go out for a celebratory drink.

And Dean does the dumbest thing Dean’s ever done.

He turns around real quick, and dumps an entire pint of Guinness on Miranda’s shirt.

And he’s freaking out a little because he has 100% just ruined any chance he may have had to get with this girl in any capacity, and he’s apologizing and he’s grabbing napkins and he’s trying to help her clean up…

And then they both freeze.

Because his hands are just…right on her breasts. Like…right there. Above her top, but very definitely on her breasts.

And he’s feeling a little horrified because Jesus this is not how you win somebody over.

But then she just starts laughing. Her hand is covering her mouth and she’s just standing there, cracking up, and he can’t help himself. He joins in. Because what the fuck is this situation anyways?

So they’re both standing there looking like a couple of morons. She’s covered in beer, and he’s holding soggy napkins and they’re just…

Laughing.

And for some reason, after that, Miranda Elizabeth Tyler decides that yeah, she’ll have dinner with him.

*****

He and Sam sit in the bunker’s kitchen.

It’s three in the morning, they’re both covered in monster guts, and drinking straight from a handle of bourbon, and Sam is looking at him like he’s an incredibly difficult puzzle to crack.

“What?” Dean snaps.

“You hate this.”

“What, bourbon? No I don’t.”

“Hunting,” Sam clarifies, and silence hangs heavily over them. “I don’t know when it happened. I really don’t. But somewhere along the way, you just started hating it.”

Dean lifts the bottle and takes a long, long pull before putting it down. “You know when it started?”

“When?”

“That redhead in England.”

“The UNIT translator with the cute face and the big brain?”

“Yup. She ruined hunting.”

Sam blinks rapidly. “You went out to dinner. And she visited you one time and you guys slept together. How did two dates ruin hunting?”

“Cuz-” Dean stops. “Cuz.”

“Cuz you wanna marry her and buy a house in the suburbs and have babies?” Sam guesses, taking the bottle from Dean.

“No,” the older Winchester snaps. He stops though. “I mean…it doesn’t sound…horrible.”

“Apple pie life,” Sam says.

“Which I thought we’d figured out neither of us could have,” Dean growls. “So drop it.”

“No.”

“Sammy-”

Sam sighs softly. “Dean. Come on. We both know that’s what you’ve wanted for a long time. You just never had somebody you could picture sharing it with before.”

“There was Lisa.”

“You wanted it to be Lisa, but it never was,” Sam says gently. “She didn’t get you, man. And this Miranda chick? For as little as she resembles any other girl you’ve lusted after-”

“Hey. Anna was a redhead.”

“Anna was an angel of the lord, and you had end-of-the-world sex,” Sam accuses him lightly. “It’s not the same. You didn’t wanna buy groceries with Anna.”

Dean groans. “Dammit.”

*****

Years pass.

Years and years.

And Dean’s grilling for the fourth of July. Burgers and hot dogs and chicken wings and he’s one hundred percent sure Sammy will have veggie burgers. Wife and kids are in the house, prepping more food and cleaning up a little. Parents and brother are on their way.

He hears Miranda step up behind him, and kisses the back of his head.

“Hullo, you. Ready for this?”

He grins widely.

“Yep.”


End file.
